


Oooh, Somebody's In Trouble

by foreverandalwayscrysis



Category: The 100 (TV), The 100 Series - Kass Morgan
Genre: Abby is a supportive healthy yoga mom, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - The 100 (TV) Fusion, Clarke just wants to eat her fries in peace dammit, Everyone Is Alive, F/M, everyone is happy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-06
Updated: 2018-12-06
Packaged: 2019-09-12 20:59:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,940
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16879089
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/foreverandalwayscrysis/pseuds/foreverandalwayscrysis
Summary: Honestly, Clarke just wanted some curly fries. That's not too much to ask for.





	Oooh, Somebody's In Trouble

**Author's Note:**

> ... I may or may not have broken our dryer while using the new air fryer. There's no proof.
> 
> props to anyone who guesses the inspiration behind the title sdalkasjdk (also I know nothing about circuits/wiring/all that jazz pls don't @ me)

Listen, Clarke just wanted to make some curly fries, alright?

She had a busy weekend visiting family she hopefully wouldn’t see again for another 365 days, finals are coming up in 2 weeks, she hasn’t seen her friends for more than 10 minutes at a time this entire month and all she wanted to do after class was watch Netflix, eat some junk food, and maybe make out with Bellamy.

She’s not completely irresponsible yet, so she works on her statistics quiz after starting a load of laundry, a full cup of detergent _and_ softener because she’s only human, the evening news playing softly in the background. It takes her 4 attempts because she keeps making stupid errors in the R-commands, missing an asterisk or misplacing the period before the zero, but she finally gets a 100 and ignores Minerva’s indignant meow when she startles her awake with her ‘ _fuck yeah!’_ outburst.

“What? Don’t act like you’ve never heard me curse before,” Clarke retorts, Minerva simply laying her head back down and closing her eyes again.

She puts her laptop on the coffee table, getting up and heading to the kitchen, giddy with excitement over her impending Netflix and fries date night. It’s Monday, which means leftovers for dinner and Bellamy’s already on his way home, having texted Clarke half an hour ago. Normally, she’d throw them all on a baking sheet and toss them into the oven, but her mother insisted on taking her shopping to celebrate her moving in with Bellamy and 3 hours at Macy’s later, Clarke had too many expensive bedsheets to count, a brand-new set of matching measuring utensils, and a shiny, black air fryer to top it all off.

“Oh, these things are great! You get the nice, crispy texture of fried foods but without all the excess oil, and cooking time is basically cut in half,” Abby had explained, bright and cheerful. Clarke’s iced caramel macchiato still hadn’t done enough to prepare her.

Bellamy had only raised his eyebrows from his place on the loveseat once she’d gotten home, lips pursed as if biting down to stop himself from laughing. “Do I want to know?”

“All I’m saying is, I’m not having sex with you on the bedsheets my mother just bought for us. I don’t care if they’re 1000-thread count Egyptian cotton and softer than a baby’s skin.” Clarke had frowned down at the bags, looking like they’d personally offended her. “I can’t believe she bought us five sets.”

“Fine by me. I like your skin better, anyways,” Bellamy grinned, Clarke rolling her eyes as he tugged her towards him for a long kiss.

Grabbing a pair of scissors out of the kitchen drawer, Clarke takes out the bag from the freezer, cuts the top off in one go, and dumps in an excessive serving into the basket, pushing the start button and putting away the scissors as the fryer whirs to life. There’s a short beep before the timer blinks to life on the small screen, counting down from 18 minutes, and Clarke places the bag back into the freezer.

The washing machine chimes the end of the cycle and Clarke changes directions for the laundry room, haphazardly tossing the clothes into the adjacent dryer, adding in two dryer sheets for good measure. Minerva’s doing the weird kneading thing only cats do on the couch cushion when Clarke walks back in and settles down, pulling up Netflix on the TV. She’s barely five minutes into the semifinals of GBBO, idly wondering if it’s too late to text Bellamy to pick up some palmiers on his way home when there’s a sharp click and the kitchen lights turn off, the soft hum of the air fryer stopping abruptly. Clarke pauses the show, eyebrows drawn together in confusion as she walks into the kitchen and flicks the switch. Nothing. She’d be less confused if the entire apartment was dark, but the TV is still on and the lamps are illuminating the living room and hallway.

She shoots off a quick text to both Monty and Raven, replies coming in within minutes of each other. Monty has sent her a link to an article explaining how circuit breakers work, with a summarized text following it, and Raven’s response is just as blunt as her persona, _you overdid whatever yall were doing, smh. Find the gray box on your laundromat wall, flip the switch back on and you win. Pls don’t text me anymore during your weird circuit breaking foreplay._

“Bellamy isn’t even home,” Clarke mutters as she walks over to the laundry room, locating the rectangular box fitted into the side wall. She opens it and the switch marked with a number six is the only one in the opposite direction of the others, towards off. There’s another click as Clarke pushes it back towards on and a beat later, the kitchen lights are back, fryer humming to life with a beep and displaying five minutes on the timer. Satisfied, Clarke shuts the light off and goes back to the living room, hitting play on the remote, a young brunette named Candice resuming rolling her pastry dough. She’s in the middle of replying to Harper’s confirmation text about her and Bellamy attending the group’s Friendsgiving party next week when she’s plunged into darkness again, and honestly, she thinks her eyes are playing tricks. Clarke blinks, once, twice, looking around aimlessly in the dark, discarding the thought that it’s just a brief power surge when the lights don’t come back on after ten seconds.

“What the actual fuck,” she mutters, turning on the flashlight app and casting it around the apartment. Minerva is a barely distinguishable lump curled on the other end of the couch as Clarke gets up and heads to the door. She knows the electricity hasn’t been cut because she got the payment confirmation email just this weekend, and she’s left more confused when she opens her door to a well-lit hallway, the elevator doors closing with a soft ding at the end of the hall.

Frowning, Clarke locks the door and rereads Raven’s text from earlier, heading straight to the laundry room. None of the switches are out of place when she opens the box, but she tries a few different ones anyways, to no avail. She flips the main switch, waiting an extra ten seconds to be on the safe side before flipping it back. Everything is still dark.

“What is going on?” she huffs out, pulling up her contacts screen and hitting Monty’s face.

He answers on the third ring, a slight shuffling before, “Hey, Clarke. What’s up?”

“I think I broke the apartment. The power’s out but it’s just for our unit. I tried resetting it with the box in the laundry room but no luck.”

“Wait, again? I thought you texted earlier and confirmed the lights were back on.”

Clarke puts him on speaker and makes her way to the kitchen, using the screen’s light to guide her while she looks for a lighter in the side drawer. “Yeah, that was just the kitchen. It’s all out now. What gives?” She lights the single candle on the kitchen range before moving to the 3-wick on the main counter, placing the lighter aside.

“Most likely, your circuit overloaded and caused the breaker to trip, triggering the fail safe so the wiring wouldn’t catch on fire. It’ll have to be reset from the main circuit box in the building,” Monty explains, voice fading out and back in on the last word.

“So, I _did_ break the apartment? Shit.”

There’s muffled laughing in the background and a loud shushing noise before Monty responds, “Nah, just a temporary blackout. The main box will override it and things should start working again.”

Clarke huffs, sitting down on the sofa. “Alright, I’ll let Bellamy know. Thanks, Monty.”

“No problem! Keep me posted.” The call ends

There’s a knock and Clarke starts, getting up and looking through the peep hole before opening the door. Bellamy grins at her, mouth opening and closing as his eyes move past Clarke and take in the rest of the apartment.

“Um. Did I forget date night or…?” he asks.

“Nope. I broke the apartment. Monty said the main circuit box in the building needs to be reset for the power to come back on.” Clarke steps aside to let him in, grins when Bellamy flips the living room switch uselessly, a frown already gracing his features.

Bellamy lets out a low whistle, smirks, “Wow. And here I thought we actually wanted to live like normal people.” 

Clarke swats his arm and Bellamy grabs it before she can pull back, grinning and kissing her palm before wrapping an arm around her waist.

“I didn’t do anything! The apartment hates me. First the dining room light, now this.”

“I’m sorry, are you saying you believe Jasper’s theory about us having a house ghost?”

“Yeah, well, every time I’m in the room, a single bulb goes out. But as soon as you walk in? Both bulbs are magically working again. Murphy was there to witness it.”

Bellamy just grins wider at Clarke’s pout, places a kiss to her temple. “I’ll message Sinclair, see if he can get access to the main breaker and get this sorted out. You hungry? I stopped by the new Thai place around the corner.”

“Extra spring rolls and sweet chili sauce?”

“I’m offended you’re even asking me that.”

Clarke grins and leans up to press a quick kiss to Bellamy’s lips. “I love you.”

Bellamy is stealing orange chicken out of Clarke’s bowl when the lights turn back on, fork paused halfway to his mouth as he blinks from the sudden light. Clarke snorts, retaliating by switching their bowls and shoots him a triumphant grin, only to startle when the air fryer comes back to life.

“I forgot the fries!” and Bellamy simply blinks in confusion as she darts to the kitchen.

There’s a notification from behind her, and then, “Uh, Sinclair is asking if we’re using multiple heavy appliances at once? Says that’s most likely what caused our outage,” and Clarke mentally smacks herself for not connecting the dots sooner.

It turns out, running the washing machine, dryer, AND a 5.5-quart air fryer while watching TV at the same time takes us more power than their apartment signed up for.

“I’m returning the damn thing to my mom. She can keep her oversized, outage causing, wannabe-deep-fryer,” she frowns, a plate of curly fries in her hand when she returns to her spot next to him on the floor.

Bellamy just shrugs, pauses, “Wait, just that though, right? I’m not giving back those bedsheets.”

“You mean the ones you said you didn’t care about?” Clarke asks, the corners of her lips curling upwards.

“I’m not returning the bedsheets, Clarke. They’re soft as fuck.”

“Softer than my skin?”

“Look, don’t get me wro-” is all he manages before Clarke huffs and pelts a fry at him. Bellamy laughs and pulls Clarke closer to him, pressing a kiss to her jaw. “Mm, okay, you got me there.”

“Besides,” Clarke starts, popping another fry into her mouth, “I’m pretty sure we’ve had sex on all of them, so my mom definitely doesn’t want them back.”

Bellamy drops a kiss onto her shoulder, “Not all of them. The dark gray set is still in the closet.”

“Well, when you put it like that,” Clarke laughs, winding her arms around his neck, Bellamy grinning mischievously as he ducks down to capture her lips, plate of fries pushed aside and forgotten.

**Author's Note:**

> anyways, come join me on tumblr before we all get banned for being explicit


End file.
